Liar

Twelve

"Are you sick?!" I yell at him again. Why did he slap me? I cover my cheek with my hand and hope that if I press on it a little then it'll be better but it is hurting even more.

"You called me creepy! I'm not!" He yells back.

"You fucking slapped me! Leave now or I'll call the police! Fuck!" I think I even start bleeding because of this hurtful touch of his hand. I take my hand down and notice it is completely red, covered with blood.

"Oh fuck, I never wanted to do this actually, I, I uhm, I'm so sorry," he stutters but I push him out of the house and close the door. I walk into the bathroom quickly to look at my cheek. I'm bleeding out of a little bruise on the top of my cheek, right underneath my eye. I go into the kitchen and open the first aid kit there. I take out some bandages and cover that little bruise. I wipe the rest of the blood away with a tissue before I go up the stairs into Jake's room.

"Jake," I shake his shoulders slightly. "Jake,"

"Huh" he sits up quickly and notices the bandage in my face. "What did Niall do to you yesterday?"

"It wasn't Niall, neither was it yesterday," I recognize the old sober Jake and I'm wondering how he could sober up that fast.

"What else happened?"

"Liam came here and admitted his love for me," I mumble.

"Liam?! Why did he call you ugly then?" I see in the sparkle of his eyes that Jake is hurt by my words, I know he wants to be the only one who loves me, and I know that he thinks he has to keep me safe from such creeps like Liam.

"I don't know but I was bleeding and, Jake, why can't I just be back in New York?" Tears are flooding my eyes but I close them. I don't want to cry now. Somehow, these damned tears are escaping my eyes anyway and I start crying anyway.

"I talked to your father before we left to the party and he told me we can drive home for a weekend. As it is Saturday tomorrow, we'll drive tomorrow," as Jake says these words I feel my tears going back into my eyes and a smile on my mouth.

I am going back to New York!

"Jake, we have to go to MacGee's and to that Irish Pub in Sixth Avenue and I have to go to Louis Vuitton and to Chanel because I really need some good clothes again and I NEED to go back to our penthouse and we'll sleep there and, and, Times Square and we have to go to Empire State Building and Rockefeller Center and, holy crap I only want to do this tourist stuff, what happened to April Paxton, the New Yorker?"

"She's right here and she wants to see New York again, the real New York," his hand strokes over my hair once, then he gets out of the bed and leaves me alone in the guest room.

"Can we drive today already?" I yell after him, hoping he's not in the bathroom yet. It's ten am and I haven't been in New York since January, so it's important to go there as soon as possible.

"Of course," he screams back and I literally run into my room and pack my nicest clothes, that everyone in New York stares at me with an oh-my-god-what-is-she-wearing-she-is-making-me-jealous-as-heck look. I pack more than necessary for two days. I think with all these clothes. I packed, I'd survive ten days there.

After about an hour of packing and getting ready I go into Jake's room and ask, "are you ready for New York City?"

"Absolutely, hun," he stands up, grabs his key and we leave the house with small goodbye hugs and sandwiches prepared by Sheila. As always, Jake opens the door for me and I get in the car. Jake hops in as well and starts the motor. I've never enjoyed the sound of a driving car as much as right now because now I know that I'm going to be in New York in less than three and a half hours. Just as we left Attleboro my phone vibrates and I see that I got a message from an unknown number.